Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

"So, Lord Louis, why did we have to come to this?"

Mckinney saw that Louis remained cold-faced and silent, which only solidified his thoughts. He immediately looked up, revealing an extremely fawning smile: "I am ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) truly repentant! As long as you show mercy,

Money, women, territory, resources, all will be yours!

Red Tide Territory and us have always been good neighbors, this small misunderstanding, there's no need—"

"Execute him," Louis said, annoyed, uttering two words flatly.

His voice was so calm it held almost no ripple, like he was announcing an unimportant notice.

"Ah? But I'm a noble! You, you can't just kill—" Mckinney instantly froze, the smile on his face as if slapped away, rigid in place, his eyes wide.

But as soon as the words left his mouth, even he felt them hollow.

He had only inherited his brother's baronetcy by luck, and being young, no one had taught him how to govern or how to be responsible.

He had only seen his father and elder brother's imposing demeanor, thinking that as long as he wore the skin of a noble, no one would dare touch him.

Bullying men and women, exploiting the common people, no one had ever punished him for it, so he thought this was the privilege of a noble.

Until today, until the young noble, even younger than him, who had carved out his own territory on the battlefield, stood before him and issued an order for his beheading.

"Pfft!"

The blade cut down cleanly, blood splattering high, spraying onto the snow.

Mckinney's head rolled onto the snow, his face still frozen in that expression of extreme horror.

His mouth was open as if he still wanted to argue, his wide eyes staring fixedly ahead, as if he hadn't understood why even at his death.

How could this be—this isn't how it's supposed to go!!

A Red Tide Knight shook his blade, flicking off the blood, gave the corpse a cold glance, then silently retreated to the side.

Mckinney's head finally came to rest at the feet of the remaining knights.

A pool of blood slowly spread, reflecting faces contorted in extreme shock.

"This, this is impossible—"

"He, he actually killed Lord Mckinney!"

A slightly older knight's throat bobbed, and he quickly threw down his weapon and knelt: "I surrender! We are willing to submit to Red Tide!"

"Lord of Red Tide Territory! We, we surrender! We are willing to pledge allegiance! We are willing to devote ourselves to you!"

"Lord Calvin, spare us! We were forced!"

"Yes, yes, we were forced by Mckinney! We will definitely pledge our lives to you from now on, Lord!"

At this moment, there was no trace of so-called knightly dignity in their eyes, only endless terror and humble begging.

But Louis merely cast a quick glance, his eyes full of disdain.

These people were simply not qualified knights.

Their swords had long been corroded by wine and meat, their resolve long rotted in luxury and greed.

They seemed submissive now, but given the chance, they would surely be venomous snakes that would bite back.

Moreover, every one of them had personally attacked the Red Tide Territory's grain convoy.

Keeping such people would only corrupt the morale of other warriors and sow seeds of disaster.

"Leave no one," Louis said, his tone as indifferent as stagnant water, waving his hand.

"Yes!"

The Red Tide Knights rushed forward like a sudden storm, their blades gleaming with a cold light.

"Quick, run!" a knight under Mckinney shrieked, his voice trembling.

However, before he finished speaking, a long spear had pierced his chest, hoisting him high, blood spraying like rain.

"Ah!" Someone tried to raise his sword to resist, but before he could swing it, his head was split in two by a heavy axe, not even having time to scream.

More people grabbed their weapons and tried to flee, but they were already surrounded by the Red Tide Knights, swords crossing like the scythes of death, swiftly harvesting lives.

The sounds of hacking, bone-cracking, and blood gushing mixed together, then quickly subsided into silence.

In the castle square, over seventy knights lay dead, their blood staining the thick snow red, emitting a sweet and oppressive fishy (bloody) smell.

A reckoning, swift and thorough, Mckinney's remnants were completely annihilated.

The battle ended too quickly.

Weil put away his longsword, standing in the blood-stained castle square, looking at the corpses strewn everywhere, a hint of unconcealed disappointment in his eyes.

He had always fantasized about fighting alongside Lord Louis on the battlefield, battling through blood.

But who would have thought that this so-called "expedition"...

Aside from guarding, he hadn't even encountered a decent enemy.

"Is that it?" Weil mumbled, full of lingering desire.

Louis glanced at him and casually said, "What, disappointed?"

"Ah—no, not—" Weil hastily composed his expression, but he couldn't hide his disappointment.

Louis showed a hint of amusement: "Come on, since you didn't get enough fighting, accompany me for a walk."

Weil froze, then suddenly straightened his back: "Yes! Lord Louis!"

The wind and snow howled, carrying fine ice particles that struck the armor, making a crisp sound.

Louis walked slowly over the snow, his gaze sweeping over the dilapidated street.

Weil silently followed beside him, vigilantly observing his surroundings.

This was the residential area of Baron Mckinney's territory.

At first glance, the area around the castle was no different from other territories in the North.

But the closer they walked, the stronger the nauseating smell of decay became, carrying a cold sense of death through their breath.

Several dilapidated houses by the roadside had broken doorframes, and their windows were covered with thick frost.

Through the cracked door seams, a few huddled shadows could be seen inside the houses.

They were wrapped in tattered cloths, curled up in corners.

Their eyes were hollow and lifeless, staring straight at Louis, as if looking at a passerby with whom they had no connection.

But no one moved.

No one cried for help, no one hid, there wasn't even a hint of reaction.

It was an expression of utter numbness; they were already destined to live this decaying life.

The appearance of another stranger would change nothing.

This was the true North.

Other places might be a little better, but not by much.

And the reason Red Tide Territory was different was not because it was lucky, but because of Louis's presence.

Inside a house, a young boy was clumsily cutting a dead rat with a knife.

Black water was boiling in a clay pot beside him, with a ring of grease around the rim.

Behind him sat a row of smaller, emaciated children, also expressionless, sitting blankly in the corner of the room.

Weil silently watched everything before him, his fingers already tightening on his sword hilt.

In those houses, huddled, were merely walking corpses with long-dead souls.

In another house, a broken wooden bucket contained snow water and rotten vegetable scraps; this was the residents' dinner.

Under the wall at the street corner, several corpses were piled up, naked and lying on the ground, without dignity.

A wild dog came over, bit through one of them, exposing white bones.

"This—" Weil spoke softly, but he didn't know what to say.

Deep in his mind, something suddenly surged up.

It was nearly a year ago, the days he and his mother were locked in the slave trader's cellar.

Their food was just a paste mixed with snow residue and husks.

Every day was spent enduring cold and hunger, every night hearing people crying, wailing, or dying.

At that time, he also curled up in a corner like this, holding his mother, staring blankly into the darkness.

Unsure if he was waiting for a miracle, or waiting to die.

He didn't want to recall it again.

But this land before him, these people, the numbness and despair in their eyes, were like a mirror, reflecting his past without a single flaw.

If it weren't for Lord Louis, he and his mother might still be in that place now.

Or they would have long frozen or starved to death, casually discarded by the roadside, without even a grave.

"He pulled us out of that place," Weil took a deep breath, trying to stabilize his emotions,

But he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

He was grateful to Lord Louis from the bottom of his heart; he was the one who pulled them, mother and son, out of hell.

Because Weil had experienced these things himself, he couldn't bear to see these sights.

He couldn't bear to see those people, like he once was, abandoned in a living hell, silently awaiting their end.

Weil slowly turned his head to look at the tall figure beside him.

He didn't speak, but his eyes clearly asked: You will do something, right?

Louis stood in the wind, his eyes gazing forward.

He saw the corpses exposed to the wind, the numb, frozen eyes, and the children's clenched fists and uneasy gazes.

Even in the North, such misery was extremely rare. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Louis suddenly felt that simply killing Mckinney was somewhat regrettable.

He let out a soft breath, understanding what he needed to do.

Then he turned around and began writing a letter to Duke Edmund in the temporarily set up tent.

The content of the letter was simple, the entire letter amounting to only a few hundred words, roughly summarized into three points:

Mckinney colluded with bandits and attacked the Red Tide Territory's grain convoy, with conclusive evidence.

He had brought people to seek an explanation, during which Mckinney resisted violently and died in battle.

His territory's current situation was extremely dire, with the common people like walking corpses; he requested the Duke's decision on the subsequent handling.

And the tragedy here, if written truthfully, without excessive embellishment, would be enough to make anyone furrow their brows upon reading it.

As for the phrase "died in battle," Louis was not evading responsibility.

He never felt he had done anything wrong.

Mckinney deserved to die, he was utterly heinous, and he died too late.

It was just that Louis knew that among nobles, it was about making things "plausible."

Even if the other party was a scoundrel, he was at least a baron; one couldn't openly say, "I didn't like him, so I cut him down with a sword."

So he gave a barely plausible reason.

Although there were still some loopholes, it at least gave Duke Edmund a reason to believe.

As for whether the Duke believed it or not, that was not his concern.

After finishing and sealing the letter, he walked out of the tent and summoned the accompanying Swiftwind Bird.

Louis tied the letter to its ankle and watched it flap its wings and disappear into the gray sky.